My Tomorrow

by Megan Nugen Isbell

  Outside, it was chilly for a September morning. I regretted not grabbing a sweater, but even if I went back, I had nothing that would go with the dress anyway. I tried to push the chill out of my mind and walked quickly to the subway entrance, holding my arms closely to try and ward off the cold.

  The platform and train were both crowded and I had to hold onto a railing as there were no seats available. I couldn’t help but think had I been back in Iowa, some of the men on board would’ve offered their seats to one of the many women standing. I had to keep reminding myself that this was New York, not Iowa.

  When the train finally made it to my stop, I walked quickly back to street level. The buildings were almost suffocating, like I was trapped in a concrete valley. The way the sunlight was filtered by the tall buildings made it seem later than it was and I instantly noticed this part of town had a more serious, powerful air about it. It definitely lacked the excitement of Times Square and it seemed as if I was surrounded by nothing but businesspeople in power suits, which made me more self-conscious of my purple dress. I just swallowed, trying to wash away the worry. There was nothing I could do about it now except do my best to convince these people I was the one for the job.

  It was almost nine-thirty and I needed to focus on finding the address. I quickened my pace, doing my best not to look too lost, but I was obviously failing epically.

  “Can I help you find something?” a deep voice said and I turned to see a middle aged man in a brown suit standing beside me. He had fuzzy gray hair and a trimmed beard.

  “I’m trying to find Taylor and Saben Architecture. The address is 435 Whitehall Street. I think I’m lost,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound too desperate.

  “Well, you’re not as lost as you think you are,” he said, pointing ahead. “Just head down that street and take a left. You’ll see 435 on the side and it’s in that building.”

  “Thanks.” I was barely able to get the words out before the man was off again. He’d been nice, for a New Yorker.

  I hurried down the street in the direction the man had pointed me and turned left. Sure enough, I saw 435 in big gold letters attached to another tall building. It was hard to tell one from the other because they all seemed to merge into one.

  I walked into the building and was impressed with the crisp, modern feel. Golden hued marble lined the floor and everyone looked so serious. I went over to the information desk where an older man with white hair was sitting.

  “Excuse me,” I said and he glanced up momentarily, but I knew he wasn’t interested in helping me when he returned his attention back to the paper he was reading.

  “Yes?” he asked, obviously too busy to even look up at me.

  “I need to get to Taylor and Saben. Can you direct me which way to go please?” I asked in my sweetest Midwestern voice, deciding killing him with kindness would be the best thing to do.

  “Fourteenth floor,” he said, pointing to the elevators.

  “Thank you so much for your help.” I laid the sarcasm on extra thick before making my way to the elevators. The ride up seemed to take forever as it kept stopping to let people on and off, but it finally stopped on fourteen and I stepped off along with two other people. Looking ahead, I saw a large reception desk with the name Taylor & Saben in fancy script hanging above. I took a deep breath and walked towards the desk, trying to look casual and relaxed. A woman with tortoise shell glasses, blonde hair that was tied back into a tight bun and a tailored black suit was sitting in a chair, a phone to her ear. She looked up at me and raised her finger, acknowledging she’d be with me in a moment. I smiled and waited, doing my best not to eavesdrop and I was glad when the woman finally hung up the phone.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “Yes. I’m Natalie Vasser. I have an interview at ten o’clock.”

  The woman began typing on a computer and then looked up.

  “I see your appointment right here. If you want to have a seat, I’ll let Leslie know you’re here.”

  “Thank you,” I said, trying to sound relaxed when in reality my heart was pounding from anxious nerves.

  I turned and sat down in one of the straight backed gray chairs lining the wall, glancing at the large stone clock above the receptionist. It was five minutes till ten. I crossed and then uncrossed my legs a few times, unable to get comfortable. My hands were folded on my lap and my thumb stroked the back of my hand nervously.

  “Miss Vasser,” the receptionist called. “Leslie’s ready for you.”

  I smiled and walked over to the desk. The young woman stood up and I followed her to a conference room in the back of the office.

  “Leslie, this is Natalie Vasser,” the receptionist said once she’d led me inside.

  I smiled at the middle aged woman with curly brown hair, even though she intimidated the hell out of me in her dark blue pencil skirt, white blouse and matching silk scarf. She looked impeccable and I feared again that I’d made the wrong choice with the purple jersey dress.

  “Hello, Natalie,” Leslie said, standing up from the mahogany oval table. “I’m Leslie Graham. Please come in. Thank you, Christa,” she said to the receptionist who left the room, shutting the door behind her. The room was quiet and I looked around. It was an extension of the meticulous office, with obviously high-end furniture and pictures of fancy buildings lining the walls.

  “It’s nice to meet you as well, Ms. Graham,” I said, mustering up as much confidence as I could, walking over and extending my hand.

  “Likewise, and please call me Leslie,” she said as we shook. “Please sit down.”

  I sat across from Leslie and I did my best to look relaxed and calm, even though my insides felt like a scrambled mess and I was afraid if I opened my mouth I might throw up.

  “Thank you for coming in today,” Leslie began.

  “Thank you for the interview,” I said and then winced inside, realizing how juvenile I sounded.

  “Let’s go ahead and get started,” Leslie said, glancing down at the file in front of her. “You’re interviewing for a position as an office assistant for Mr. Saben. Have you ever had any experience working in an office?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” I said and I felt my heart start to sink, feeling the job slipping away before the second question had even been asked.

  “That’s alright. We’re willing to train if you’ve got the skills. What makes you qualified for this position?”

  I could hardly hear her over the sound of my pounding heart, but I swallowed deeply after formulating my response quickly in my brain.

  “To start, I’m a quick learner. I’m computer savvy and I’m very comfortable using Microsoft Office…Word, Excel, PowerPoint,” I said, rambling off the first things I could think of, but knowing it didn’t set me apart from anyone else from my generation.

  Leslie nodded and jotted down something on the paper in front of her.

  “The temp agency sent over a copy of your résumé. It says here you have a B.S. in English from the University of Iowa.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I do. I graduated last May.”

  “And what would you like to do with that?” Leslie asked and I grew even more nervous. Why was she asking about this? What did this have to do with being an office assistant?

  “I’d like to work in a library or at a publishing company eventually or perhaps go to graduate school first.”

  “Well, you’re definitely in the right city to do all that,” Leslie said and looked up and smiled, but I didn’t know how to read her.

  “Yes, I am,” was all I could think to say.

  “Let’s talk about the position here. Taylor and Saben is one of the most sought after architectural firms in New York. It’s a very busy place, so you have to be able to change directions on a dime. You may need to work late, would that be a problem?”

  “Not at all,” I answered quickly and Leslie nodded.

  “As I mentioned, this position is temporary. Mr. Saben is working on a large project at the
moment, which requires extra support and the last assistant didn’t work out. You’d be responsible for aiding Mr. Saben with his accounts, keeping track of appointments, filing and anything else he needs. He has two other assistants, so it’s a shared responsibility, but still very demanding.”

  “I love a challenge,” I replied, knowing I should’ve said something different the moment it came out of my mouth. I sounded like a total cliché.

  Leslie looked as if she was about to say something when the door to the conference room swung open.

  “Leslie, I’m looking for…” a deep male voice said, and then stopped suddenly. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were with someone.”

  I turned to see who the voice belonged to and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t taken aback when I saw him. Tall and well built. It was obvious even through his gray button up shirt and black slacks. His jet black hair was styled perfectly, cut short around the ears and it rested neatly on his collar. And then I saw his eyes: intensely green. The kind you don’t see very often and when you do, you stop and take notice. There was no denying he was attractive, more than attractive, and when he smiled at me, it was even more obvious.

  “I’m conducting interviews for your new assistant,” Leslie said and I felt my mouth gape. This couldn’t be Mr. Saben. He looked too young, late twenties probably, early thirties at the most. I’d pictured a partner in an established architectural firm to be an old man with white hair. He was definitely not an old man and his hair was definitely not white.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said and then looked over to me again. “I’m Drew Saben.” He extended his hand and I don’t know why, but I was hesitant to take it. I did though and I discovered it was warm and soft and seemed to dwarf my own.

  “Natalie Vasser. Nice to meet you, Mr. Saben,” I managed to mutter.

  “Drew, please,” he said, smiling at me again. “Mind if I sit in on this one?” he asked, looking over to Leslie, who just nodded, her mouth now in a straight line. It didn’t take a genius to see that Leslie didn’t like the direction this interview was taking. She seemed to be the kind of woman who liked to be in control.

  Drew sat down next to Leslie and as I stared across at them, I was exponentially more nervous now that Mr. Saben was sitting in on my interview, an interview I was growing more certain was going nowhere.

  “I was just explaining to Natalie the responsibilities of the position,” Leslie said and Drew nodded, reaching over and sliding the file Leslie had been looking at in front of him. His eyes darted quickly over my résumé and then looked up.

  “University of Iowa? Is Iowa home?”

  “Yes, sir. Cedar Rapids.”

  “There’s some beautiful old architecture in Iowa. The old basilicas are exquisite,” he said and I nodded, a slight smile spreading over my face as I thought about home. “What brings you to New York?”

  I wasn’t quite sure what to say. I didn’t want to tell him I’d followed my boyfriend here so he could follow his dream. That might make me sound weak and stupid.

  “I wanted a new experience outside of Iowa and what better place to do that than New York?” I asked rhetorically.

  “Very true. What kind of experiences are you hoping to find in New York?” he asked and Leslie cleared her throat. I glanced over to her and it was obvious she was growing more annoyed and didn’t want to hear the answers to this question a second time.

  “Someday I’d like to work in a library or publishing. New York offers the opportunity for all of those things.”

  “That it does,” Drew nodded and smiled.

  “Well, I don’t think I have any more questions for you, Miss Vasser. We’ll be in touch within a couple of days,” Leslie interrupted, standing up and I was surprised at the sudden ending to the interview. We’d barely spoken about the job or my qualifications. She actually seemed anxious to get rid of me.

  “Okay. Thank you,” I said, standing up. “It was nice to meet you both.”

  “You too,” Leslie said, shaking my hand.

  “It was a pleasure,” Drew added, extending his hand to me.

  “I’ll show you out,” Leslie said. Drew sat down and I followed her back through the office until we were at Christa’s desk. “We’ll be in touch.”

  “Thanks again, Leslie,” I said, trying to get her to warm up to me, but even though she smiled, it was indifferent, and then she turned and headed back into the office.

  I sighed quietly, walking quickly to the elevators and waiting impatiently for the doors to open as I tried to forget about the interview. I was a fool for getting my hopes up that I even had a chance.

  It seemed like an eternity, but the elevator eventually arrived and I stepped inside, wishing I could disappear into the crowd. I couldn’t though and I was relieved when the elevator landed on the ground floor and I flooded out with the rest of the people.

  I’d been in such a rush to get here, but now I walked slowly towards the subway entrance, almost at a snail’s pace. I was surrounded by a sea of swift moving people, many carrying briefcases and holding cell phones to their ears. Important people. Confident people. People with jobs. They all looked so put together and I’d never felt like more of a loser. I doubted any of them were lame, unemployed Hawkeyes who’d just blown their first shot at a steady paycheck. I just shook my head. This was one interview. If it didn’t pan out, something would. Everything would work out. Everything had to work out.

  ~~~

  “Well?” Ethan asked the moment I walked in.

  I shut the door, tossed my purse onto the table and fell onto the couch. He walked over, lifted my legs up and sat down beside me as my legs fell across his lap.

  “I’m waiting,” he said, gently brushing his fingertips over my shins. “How’d it go?”

  “I don’t know,” I sighed truthfully.

  “You have to have some kind of feeling.”

  “I’m fairly certain I can rule out getting the position.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I completely blew it.”

  “I’m pretty sure you’re exaggerating. You have a tendency to do that,” he said and I just shot him a quick glare.

  “You weren’t there, Ethan. It sucked. The lady doing the interview hated me.”

  “That’s impossible. You’re unhateable.” I couldn’t help but smile at the silly grin he was giving me. For some reason, Ethan had a difficult time acknowledging my faults, which were definitely plenty. I guess that’s just what you do when you love someone.

  “You’re jaded, Ethan. Not everyone loves me.”

  “Impossible!” he exclaimed and I just burst out laughing.

  “Can you be serious, please?”

  “Fine. I’m sorry. Please tell me why you think you blew the interview.”

  “Well, it started with Leslie. I guess she’s the office manager and she’s the one who hates me. You should’ve seen how she looked at me as we talked. I know she thinks I’m completely inept. She probably would’ve ended the interview almost instantly had Mr. Saben not walked in.”

  “Mr. Saben, the boss?”

  “Yes. He was really nice. He talked to me about Iowa a little actually. Said there’s lots of beautiful old architecture there…I think he was just being generous,” I laughed. “Then the interview just ended. It was kinda weird.”

  “I’m sure it went fine. You need to have a little more faith in yourself.”

  “You weren’t there though,” I sighed and then stood up and walked into the bedroom. I took off the dress and changed into a pair of sweats and a tank top. I grabbed a clip and was tying up my hair when Ethan walked in and slid his arms around me.

  “Just try and relax,” he said.

  “I will. I’m just wallowing in self pity for a little bit, but I’ll get over it. If this doesn’t work out, it’s not the end of the world.”

  “Exactly,” he said, kissing me sweetly and then walked over to the closet, pulling out his work clothes.r />
  “Do you think you’ll be late tonight?” I asked, knowing the answer, but hoping he would say no. Feeling sorry for myself wouldn’t be as easy if he was with me.

  “I should be home by eleven or so,” he said, and I knew I was staring at him as he changed into the black slacks and shirt, disappointed when he covered himself up.

  “Lucky me,” I said, pulling my gaze from him and strolling out of the room and into the kitchen to make a sandwich.

  “Hey, don’t get down,” Ethan said a few moments later, following me into the kitchen. “You knew I was working tonight.”

  “I know, but it gets lonely here,” I said, taking out my frustration on the peanut butter I was spreading on a piece of wheat bread, slopping it on a little too forcefully.

  “I’ve gotta work, Nat,” he sighed.

  “I know,” I said, adding jelly to the other piece of bread. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just stressed over the interview and stuff. I thought I would’ve found something by now. It was so easy for you.”

  “Let’s not compare you and me. I got lucky and you will too. Now stop being a brat and just relax, okay?” he said, smiling at me. “Now, I have to go. I’ll see you tonight.” He leaned over to kiss me and I dropped the knife I’d been using, wrapping my arms around his neck, moving my mouth more forcefully over his, as my hands dropped down slowly, running my fingertips over the waistband of his pants. I slid my hand inside, hoping he wouldn’t mind being a little late for work. I could tell he wanted me, but he jerked back.

  “I have to get to work, Natalie,” he said, his voice low and breathy.

  “Can’t you be just a few minutes late?” I whispered, moving my hand back towards his pants, but he grabbed my wrist harder than I expected.